


The Clothes Make The Man

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Master/Slave, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Food. Sex. Leather Pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clothes Make The Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lokei and Zats Clear](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lokei+and+Zats+Clear).



> Directly inspired by "Words" by Jeylan

"What?" Jack said, as the team tried to mask snickers with ducks of the head or strategically placed hands. Even Vala hadn't openly laughed, still not quite sure how much kidding around was allowed with _this_ general compared to Hank Landry, who had no sense of humor except for jokes he himself thought up first, as far as Daniel could tell. One of the many reasons Daniel was glad this mission had called for Jack's Ancient gene, and thusly, his always-welcome and too-much-missed presence.

"It's just... so not you," Daniel ventured, the only one of them with the history and the balls to speak up, apparently, as they all assembled in the Gate room, the chevrons majestically locking, and got their first looks at the undercover garb with which Jack had been provided.

Daniel glanced at Mitchell, to his left, and Sam, to his right. They were industriously looking anywhere but at Daniel. Then he glanced at Teal'c, who had resumed his normal stoic detachment soonest of all.

"Like you've got a leg to stand on here," Jack sniffed.

Daniel had gotten so used to dressing like the SGC's best guess at a down-on-his-luck pirate during all his adventures with Vala's contacts, to say nothing of the various messes Mitchell had gotten the team into, that he'd come to accept stepping through the Gate in ripped skintight leather and motorcycle boots. The getup, even the contact lenses, seemed as ordinary as BDUs. But this sort of outfit on Jack? It was just ... wrong. Very very wrong.

"I don't know, Jackson," Mitchell said. "The general should be all about the undercover stuff, if memory serves."

"Yeah!" Jack had exclaimed as the wormhole billowed and settled. "See? Come on, Mitchell. You're my new best friend." And with a swirl of his black velvet cloak, Jack grabbed Mitchell around the shoulders and headed up the ramp, his black boots clomping satisfyingly on the grillwork.

"No worries, Daniel," was Vala's arch observation. "If they desert you, you've still got me -- loyal as the day is long."

Daniel laughed, shook his head, and headed up the ramp in her wake. The smugglers of PX2-447 would never know what hit them.

Their disguises served their intended purpose flawlessly, which was how, at day's end, he came to be here, on his knees at Jack's side, juggling a wine carafe and bowls and plates of food. The smugglers' get-acquainted feast for their latest buyers was in full swing.

Beyond Jack's reclining form, Daniel could see Sam, also reclining on a Roman-style, leather couch, with Vala kneeling beside her. Teal'c was regally standing near the foot of Sam's couch next to the wall, staff weapon in hand, having disdained the feast as contrary to his principles. He had played to the hilt his role as sneering arbiter of the meet-up between the smugglers and the team (who were pretending to be, not representatives of the First World, but denizens of a remote system on the far side of Dakara and thus hopefully well beyond the known trade routes of their hosts). His disdain included refusing to participate in a banquet whose arcane and traditional manners dictated the use of slaves, a stance only befitting a leader of the Free Jaffa. What the attitude really did was give Teal'c an excuse to remain on guard, freeing Jack and Sam for their roles as dissipated guests. Furthermore, Teal'c had refused as a matter of honor to speak in anything other than the most obscure Chulaki dialect, forcing the smugglers to produce a Jaffa who could translate. This might have resulted in valuable intel about the smuggler planet's connections with holdouts from the Jaffa Nation, but this particular Jaffa bore the tattoo of Anubis, which unfortunately told SG-1 and Jack exactly nothing about present alliances. Teal'c had hidden his disappointment, and the negotiations, and the jockeying through introductions, and the preparations for the feast, had all proceeded without a hitch. The smugglers bought Jack and Sam's cover identities, and barely glanced at their slaves.

Now, crouching at Jack's elbow, with everything going according to plan, the stress ebbing with every passing minute, it was all Daniel could do to keep his face composed in a mask of dutiful humility when he periodically caught Vala's eye. He hadn't dared make eye contact with Jack himself since the feast began.

As Teal'c's informants had said in their briefing for the op, back on Earth, by boldly claiming the standing they appeared to have, the members of SG-1 were awarded it. It was like bluffing in poker. Daniel mused that Vala and Jack must be totally in their element.

Eyes downcast, he took up the bowl which had held an excellent and simple clear soup, which Jack had emptied after Daniel had tasted it, and turned to put it on a tray for the party's equivalent of bus boys. They scuttled to and fro, usually against the walls, low to the ground, like the ballboys at Wimbledon. Daniel poured more wine. A meat course was next, he could see by glancing along the circle of couches, past Sam to his and Jack's left, and an unknown dignitary, with her companion slave, on his right.

Earlier Jack had objected, and vehemently, to the idea that Daniel taste his food as part of the slave cover, but the reassurance that a cloaked and modified al-kesh was following them, standing ready to beam them up at the first sign of trouble, had made him fall in with that part of the plan. And it did seem very unlikely that their hosts would bother to poison them, since they, after all, were presumably paying customers. Highly paying. And poisoning would also defeat the possibility of repeat business. Daniel smiled to himself.

After this feast and a night of entertainment, the smuggler kings were supposed to take SG-1 (sans Mitchell, who was waiting near the gate, having secretly beamed down first with SG-3) and the other potential buyers to the trove of artifacts and tech -- kind of like a vast garage sale and silent auction.

Jack was here because of the chance that one of the ships on offer was Ancient. Vala and Sam were to identify any undercover Tok'ra, Goa'uld or former hosts -- in the chaos caused by the rout of the System Lords, and the now-headless infighting of the Lucian Alliance, any imaginable combination of allies was actually possible, out here on the Milky Way's rim.

All the four of them had to do was play their parts convincingly, and they might go home with an Atlantis-style puddlejumper -- perhaps even one with a time device, Teal'c's informants had said. Of course, those Jaffa didn't know exactly what the time device was, when they had gotten a glimpse of it and conveyed their information to Teal'c's contacts. But it was a find too promising to pass up.

Teal'c, whenever Daniel glanced at him, was standing still as a tree, his eyes scanning the room. It was comforting. Like having one's own personal Secret Service agent. Daniel knew Jack wouldn't have felt comfortable with anyone else backing them up.

Even so, Jack and Sam had refused to let their slaves remove their boots before reclining on the banquet couches, despite the fact that nearly all the other guests had done so. It was a precaution, because they could still be forced to ditch the mission and run, but that was looking more and more unlikely. As the meal began, Jack had stretched out and crossed his ankles, apparently quite comfortable in the tall, black leather boots. When Daniel fed him, he rolled to the side and propped on one elbow. Between courses, he shifted to his stomach to scan the room or talk quietly to Sam. This setup gave Daniel an interesting and unique opportunity to check out Jack's ass and upper thighs, encased as they attractively were in the leather pants of his costume. He was also wearing a rakish white silk shirt, and earlier had allowed Daniel to take his heavy velvet cloak from his shoulders and fold it away. He looked like a very well-to-do pirate.

Daniel moved a plate of something that resembled a cross between shish-kebab and teriaki chicken closer to Jack's elbow, and took a bite from the middle of one skewer. It tasted as good as it smelled. He was going to get plenty to eat tonight -- no worries about slaves going hungry while their masters feasted. This banquet was definitely Romanesque in its excesses.

He turned to Jack and touched his shoulder. He held the skewer up, and Jack raised himself on his elbow and smiled and leaned in for a sample, reaching over to wrap a hand around Daniel's. Through the smile, Jack caught Daniel's gaze, a careful check-in. Daniel managed not to laugh before looking down. What would be Jack's pirate name? He'd have to ask Vala. She was the one with the ear for nicknames.

_"Are you okay down there?"_ Jack's questioning gaze had silently said. Daniel kept his eyes down, smiled sincerely, and nodded.

Jack transferred his attention to the meat, and gave Daniel's hand an invisible squeeze. Transmission successful. Almost as good as telepathy. Good to know they still had the knack.

It was a long time before Daniel's smile faded. The last time he'd had to play a slave, it had been for the Goa'uld Yu. This was heaps more fun. So odd and so self-indulgent to have a legitimate pretext for expressing his attraction to Jack -- his long-simmering, well-contained, forever-doomed passion. Years ago Daniel had given up on either killing it or consummating it. It was simply part of him now. Jack's promotion to D.C. had done nothing to dampen their friendship or tarnish their psychic connection, and Daniel was so grateful. Besides the issues of the old team and the military's intolerance, he'd also long since accepted that Jack was straight, and he was long since at peace with that acceptance. But his apparently eternal feelings made this mission's role a lot more fun than his previous turns as smuggler or pirate or bounty hunter. And so he was shamelessly using his present excuse to put his heart in his eyes, while letting his fantasies quietly run wild. Tonight he could touch Jack, and gaze at him, and admire him to his heart's content. No one the wiser, and Jack would probably even praise him later for his terrific undercover work. Yes, this was definitely hilarious.

Daniel bit his lip to keep from laughing, and offered his master another skewer of the beautifully seasoned and tender meat. Jack wrapped his warm, strong hand around Daniel's, and began to nibble, deftly picking the bite-sized morsels from the skewer. Daniel relaxed into simple enjoyment of the warm, lowgrade arousal that was so easily sparked by watching Jack's mouth. He was still afraid he'd laugh if he caught Jack's eye, but so far, so good.

After the meat course, he served Jack some more wine, and then Daniel asked for and got a pitcher of water from one of the bus boys. He began alternating the wine in the goblet with plain water, and won a grateful glance from Jack.

The next course was skewered grilled vegetables, drizzled in spicy oil -- crunchy and, in their own way, just as delicious as the meat. Jack, Daniel could see, was enjoying the meal almost in spite of himself as he continued to monitor the room.

One of the hosts was making his rounds of the banquet -- literally; as his slaves were carrying his couch around the interior of the circle of sprawling guests, so he could converse with each in turn. The man settled in front of Jack for the second half of the vegetable course, and engaged him in a polite discussion about Jack's homeworld and his tastes in food and wine. Daniel had to use all his self-control not to grin in admiration at Jack's diplomatic, arrogant, perfectly in-character and perfectly well-researched answers. Comfortable undercover, indeed. Mitchell had nailed it. Pity Mitchell had had no role to play here and was reduced to babysitting the gate with the Marines. He really would have enjoyed this.

After some elegant fencing about the exact location of "Janos the Trader's" homeworld, which Jack refused to divulge while remaining oh-so-polite, their host turned, and appraised Daniel with a speculative stare.

"A beautiful specimen," he said to Jack.

"You think so?" Jack said carelessly, holding his wine goblet toward Daniel without looking at him. Daniel took it and refilled it with water, carefully not looking directly at their host, but absorbing through his peripheral vision that the man was gathering his draperies over one arm and sitting. Jack took the cup from Daniel and sat up, too, swinging his legs over the edge of his couch in front of Daniel, like a barrier.

"You do not? If he is not quite to your taste, perhaps we could add him to the exchange tomorrow. It is a fact that he would add a substantial credit to your account, in advance of the auction."

"Oh, I didn't say that," Jack said, fondly, calmly, and he reached out and ruffled Daniel's hair. "I'm pretty fond of this guy. In fact I think I've probably spoiled him for anybody else." Daniel froze, and kept his eyes carefully lowered, both hands on the water carafe on his knees. After that hair ruffle, which gave Daniel goosebumps all down his back (so long since he'd had a taste of Jack's easy physical affection!), Jack's hand settled on Daniel's nape. He shook Daniel gently, squeezing, and it made Daniel swallow in a completely unforced and spontaneous rush of lust. Jack's grip was perfect -- warm and strong against his skin, something Daniel had allowed himself to fantasize about many times. "Me and my quirky habits, you know. Idio-syn-cratic," Jack drawled.

"There is such a thing as re-training," their host offered, sounding a bit disappointed. "And he has such beautiful eyes. That color is a rarity on our world, as you may know."

"You don't say," Jack said.

"I did mention the term "substantial credit," but perhaps "premium credit" would be more accurate? Should that affect your considerations at all."

Daniel felt more than saw Jack stiffen, and he pulled on Daniel's neck and Daniel, caught in his role, had to give, had to go with it. Jack pulled him right over until Daniel's cheek was resting high on Jack's warm, leather-sheathed thigh. Jack's hand slid down to cup the bare skin of his shoulder, and Jack must have put down the goblet, because he brought the other hand over to ruffle Daniel's hair some more. A long, possessive ruffle. There was absolutely no acting required for Daniel to close his eyes and melt into Jack's side. This was too much. Way too close to his vague, persistent fantasies.

_Shit_.

Jack was saying, "I appreciate the compliment, Sattile, but I don't really think you could name a price that would induce me to part with this one." Jack snuggled Daniel even closer against his leg, bringing Daniel's torso fully against his knee, and continued to pet his hair. Daniel, feeling extremely daring, even given his role, brought a hand up to cup Jack's where it held his shoulder. Jack's fingertips had gone cold.

"Not merely a dinner slave, then, is he?"

"Draw your own conclusions, sir," Jack said, and in that brief sentence Daniel could hear his voice losing its politeness and acquiring an edge. Daniel, who still had his eyes closed, continued to lounge bonelessly against Jack, the picture, he hoped, of blissful subservience, and silently hoped the conversation would end there. He knew Jack wouldn't lose his temper, but there was no careless cheerfulness in his voice now. At all.

Sattile said, "Ah. Well then. I hope you find tomorrow's transactions profitable, and I do also hope that you enjoy the remainder of your banquet."

"And I hope you do too," Jack said, formally. Daniel wondered if Jack had had to translate what he usually would have said -- 'back atcha' -- into that more appropriate sentence. Jack slid his hand from under Daniel's, probably his unconscious fighter's instinct in case he had to make a move against Sattile. That hand settled around Daniel's neck again, and Jack continued playing with Daniel's hair with the other. The touches had made Daniel hard. He sighed, waiting for Jack to release him, and as the silence stretched out, he began to hope Sattile had the sense to decide it was time to move on.

Finally, Jack let him go, sliding his hand to Daniel's back and pushing gently, and Daniel straightened and opened his eyes to see Sattile's slaves settling his couch into position in front of Sam. Jack's hand was between Daniel's shoulder blades, and a quick glance told Daniel that Jack was watching Sam as she warily greeted their host. Daniel hoped, with a sinking heart, that the fact that both Sam and Vala had blue eyes wouldn't prompt Sattile to make another awkward offer.

Apparently absently, Jack moved his hand up and resumed his ruffling of Daniel's hair, getting in a caress or three of Daniel's ear and cheek, still watching Sam, still keeping Daniel close, until Sattile looked back over his shoulder with an expression of keen regret. It seemed that was what Jack had been waiting for, because he clutched Daniel's shoulder to hold him still, and without even a whispered word of warning, he put firm fingers under Daniel's chin and tilted it up and leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Daniel was too surprised to do anything but let it happen. He squeezed his eyes shut.

_My god, my god,_ he thought, dimly, incoherently. _My god. Jack. Yes._

Jack tilted his own head a little, and inhaled, and then he _really_ kissed Daniel -- tenderly, thoroughly, skillfully. His lips were soft and tasted of wine. His mouth was a banquet. Daniel gathered up his wits and kissed back, his whole body grabbing blindly at the opportunity. Jack's mouth was responsive and careful. His lips were slightly parted. He definitely noticed the moment when Daniel started kissing him back. Daniel found himself straining up, coming off his heels. He made himself hold tight to the carafe. He willed time to stop, so he could dive inside this feeling, get it all, hold it close to savor later. Jack's fingers stroked his throat. Jack's mouth worked gently against his.

It wasn't a long kiss, as kisses go. It wasn't sloppy or deep. But it was for Daniel, as Jack would say, a doozy.

Then Jack eased back and gazed into Daniel's eyes, and all Daniel could see there seemed so real, so not part of his undercover role as benevolent master. What Daniel saw seemed to be exactly the same things Daniel had seen in Jack's eyes on a hundred worlds, on a hundred occasions, only never before from kissing distance, and not previously in the context of anything that made Daniel's libido go "TILT." In Jack's eyes, Daniel read affection, and possessiveness, and protectiveness, and a dozen permutations of those words that added up to _"My team. Mine."_ And, _"We don't leave our people behind. Ever_."

Daniel realized he must look shocked, or at least surprised, and he realized that was entirely the wrong look, and he tried to soften his features to convey gratitude instead -- gratitude, and possibly more than he intended of the undercurrent of intense sparkage that the kissing set off inside him. He was still hard, arousal thrumming along his legs and in his stomach. He loosened his deathgrip on the pitcher. He licked his lips, and swallowed and said, "Thank you."

Jack smiled at him, so warmly -- if this was purely acting, he'd underestimated Jack completely here, too, and if it _wasn't_ acting? Christ! -- and Jack leaned in and kissed him again! A gentle swift press, this time; a punctuation mark. Without words, Jack's mouth said to Daniel's, _"Just so we're clear."_

Jack leaned back a little, and Daniel blinked and realized he'd gripped Jack's hand, and that he was now pressing it against his own cheek. Then he realized that Jack wasn't pulling away, but had only turned his head to look at Sattile, wanting to see his message received. Sattile was looking rueful, and he sketched a conciliatory salute in the air. Daniel glanced at Sam. She was watching, too, and blushing. He couldn't see Vala; Jack's body was blocking his view.

He remembered to let go of Jack's hand and avert his eyes again, as if there was nothing surprising at all about what had just happened. He could feel his own lingering blush. And he was definitely still hard.

Jack drew his hand across Daniel's cheek, fire trailing from his fingertips, and then turned his hand and stroked Daniel's lower lip with one knuckle, before giving his other cheek a lingering caress and finally pulling away. Daniel could feel the afterburn of Jack's mouth and his fingers with every separate molecule of the skin Jack had touched. Jack arranged his shirt and lay down on his side again, and when Daniel pulled himself together enough to look up, Jack was frowning a little, but the reason was impossible to deduce. Daniel twisted away, trying to breathe deeply to counteract how lightheaded he felt, and noticed how gratified he was, and how thoroughly aroused, and how, well, _affected_, down to his bones, by what Jack had just done. He gave himself a mental shake and prepared to serve the next course.

Jack's mouth. Jack's touch. Jack's incredible, electrifying touch.

He took a moment, while turned away, to let his head drop, and he tried a couple of meditative tricks for instant relaxation, and then he took a stolen sip of Jack's wine and willed his erection to subside. His cheeks were still hot.

He had to calm down. It was a stolen guilty pleasure to use his slave role as a harmless outlet for his feelings for Jack, an outlet limited and confined to tonight, to this op. It was an allowable indulgence to wait on him and steal touches and act adoring. And Daniel was not at all surprised that Jack had played his own role to the hilt, done whatever he needed to do, in the moment and in character, to get Sattile to lay off the merchandise. But it would not do, at all, to let Jack figure out how those caresses and kisses made Daniel feel, or how they played right into his own secret. Daniel had concealed his true feelings for Jack all these years. And he'd better damn well go on doing just that. Undercover excuses or not. Undercover affectionate glorious kisses or not.

_God._

It was the fruit-and-cheese course that Sattile would be sharing with Sam, apparently. Rearranging those items on their shiny platter, picking at a stray leaf and tossing it aside lest it offend the epicurean tastes of the master, Daniel flailed internally and found a distraction for himself. He mused on how universal was the recipe for cheese across the galaxy. It was a pity the anthropology section had never been able to convince Washington that they could learn something by tracing the cooking and agricultural practices of the civilizations they encountered. You could learn so much by mapping the spread of various spices and vegetables and domestic animals.

Daniel's train of thought was derailed when he had to look up to serve, and his eyes fell on the spectacle of Jack, leaning once again on one elbow, his white shirt draping open at the collar, open-mouthed and expectant, a gleam in his eye, ready for Daniel to feed him what resembled nothing so much as a strawberry dipped in chocolate.

Humor. Humor was good. Humor would save him from lust. Daniel assumed a quizzical expression. He held up the little fruit, and bit the tip off, then held it on his tongue, pondering, letting Jack see him roll it around and taste it. Pretty much identical to a bright yellow strawberry dipped in chocolate, with some kind of liqueur injected. Delicious.

He bounced his eyebrows, indicating to Jack that he was going to love this, and leaned in to put the fruit between Jack's lips. As he reached, Jack did, too, and Jack put his hand on Daniel's shoulder again and closed his eyes as he closed his mouth, essentially kissing Daniel's fingers around the bite of fruit. Jack squeezed his shoulder as Daniel pulled his fingers away. Daniel found he couldn't stop watching as Jack, eyes still closed, chewed and swallowed.

This wasn't helping his erection. At all.

Jack opened his eyes and opened his mouth, obviously wanting and expecting another strawberry thing. Daniel fed him one, and readied a third, but Jack gently took it from his fingers, his eyes dancing with mischief, and twitched his chin in "go ahead" gesture. Daniel, trying not to grin, obediently opened his mouth and let Jack feed him. He opened his eyes while he was chewing, and Jack was looking at him fondly, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Daniel couldn't quite identify.

They were getting to the end of the banquet. The kitchen boys were fanning out through the hall with the last course -- carafes of red wine instead of white, and trays with jugs and cups of something that smelled so much like coffee that Daniel's mouth watered, and more small trays with something presented on tiny white lacy doilies. Chocolate. That had to be more chocolate. Daniel shook his head.

He poured Jack a cup of the new red wine, and Jack's eyebrows went up when he tasted it. So when Daniel took the cup back he tasted it, too. It was splendid. Definitely the smugglers had saved their best for last. When Daniel brought up the tray of chocolates, Jack had his mouth open again, but now he looked... wickedly flirtatious. There were no other words for it. Daniel smiled. Jack was enjoying this role way too much. They'd have a lot of fun kidding around about this later.

Daniel brought one of the chocolate confections to Jack's mouth, and in the short time it took to pick it up and transfer it to Jack's waiting lips, it began to melt.

Daniel realized this, and winced a little, as he slipped the bon bon into Jack's mouth. He must have been distracted by Jack's proximity, once again, because it surprised him when Jack captured his hand. He met Jack's eyes, and they looked serious, and then they, too, became a bit distracted as Jack absorbed the taste of the chocolate.

"Mm," he said, and Daniel tried to smile, but Jack was holding his gaze as well as his hand, and Jack looked intent, purposeful, and there was that something again -- a definite suggestion of something smoldering behind his eyes. Without letting Daniel look away, Jack gently tugged his hand, turning and flattening it, and Jack proceeded to lick the dabs of melted chocolate off Daniel's finger and thumb.

Daniel couldn't move. He was amazed, and instantly hot again, and he made a strangled sound when Jack's mouth released his fingers. Once again, Jack didn't let go. Jack held his hand and looked into his eyes, and Daniel had to swallow. Hard. That look, equal parts heat and promise.... This was Jack merely acting the part? Wasn't it?

Was it?

Daniel had no idea what was showing on his face. He couldn't control his expression; he'd lost track of his role, lost track of the room -- thank God for the other three, watching and guarding -- because every shred of cautious rationality he had was apparently gone. All he could feel was the imprint of Jack's lips and tongue on his fingers, and he was transfixed by what he saw in Jack's eyes. Without thinking, he brought Jack's hand in to press against his cheek again. He closed his eyes, trying to comprehend this. Jack gently tugged his hand away, prompting Daniel to look at him, and Jack's face brightened to cheerful wickedness, and Jack made a beckoning gesture, wanting more chocolate.

Daniel, eyes wide, turned, wincing as his erection was caught just exactly wrong by the seam in his pants, and, fumbling, found the tray.

By the time Jack had had enough of the rich dark chocolate and the excellent red wine and the coffee, which Daniel was pretty sure he'd had poured only to allow Daniel to drink some of it, Daniel was still hard enough to chip rock, and all his stern self-instructions had blown away like leaves on the wind.

The banquet was over. As Daniel gathered up the finger bowl and a towel, he glanced around. Sam and Vala had been left alone by Sattile and, it seemed, were none the worse for wear. The party was definitely breaking up. Some guests were leaving, trailed by their slaves. Some apparently were going to remain and listen to the group of musicians now gathering in the middle of the circle of couches.

Daniel handed Jack the towel and held out the deep bowl, and Jack swung to a sitting position to dip his hands and wipe them. He stood, and stretched, and looked around, and it was impossible for Daniel to resist letting his eyes travel along Jack's front, which was equally as nice a view as the back, in those form-fitting leather pants. And what do you know. Jack was hard, too.

Daniel wasn't imagining the sparks. It wasn't the required master's role that Jack was dispassionately acting.

Daniel put the bowl aside, and, having been cued by Jack standing up, Daniel stood, too, and waited with downcast eyes to see where his master would lead. Jack apparently communicated something via telepathy (or unobtrusive field signs) to Teal'c and Sam, because after a moment he turned on his heel and strode toward the door. Daniel took up Jack's cloak and followed. He stole a backward glance as they passed through the broad archway, and he saw that Teal'c had not moved from his post against the wall, and that Vala and Sam were joining the audience for the musicians, Vala helping Sam into a seat in the second row of newly-set chairs. Vala straightened from adjusting something behind Sam, perhaps a cushion, and when she looked up and caught sight of Daniel, she winked.

Daniel looked away hastily and folded his hands formally under the drape of the velvet cloak. He followed his master back to their room. He felt like chewing on his lip. He did not.

He was thinking furiously. He was thinking that he might never get another chance like this -- another chance to make an overture that could be rebuffed with absolutely no penalty. He'd thought for so long that he'd carried a torch for Jack as a futile, neverending gesture. It was stunning to thing he might have been wrong. He found himself desperate to follow up on Jack's amazing actions. And now? He had an ironclad excuse that would work regardless of how the evening went. If he offered more intimacy, and Jack rebuffed him but questioned him later, he could say he had assumed all the rooms were surveilled, and that he was simply following through on Jack's lead, after the ostentatious "hands off the slave" demonstration.

But if Jack accepted an overture from Daniel...

Daniel watched Jack's ass, firm and round under the tight leather, and paced him along the wide corridors, and tried to keep his face composed and his head down.

If Jack wanted this after all, against all odds.... If they actually ended up in bed tonight....

Buoyed, simmering, Daniel opened the door to their suite and stood aside to let Jack enter. He followed, and turned and bolted the door behind them. Jack had walked to the table and chairs against the far wall of the large, windowless room, and was picking dead petals from the flowers in the vase on the table.

Daniel hung the velvet cloak on a hook by the door. He took a deep breath and crossed the carpet to Jack. He made himself walk slowly, deliberately. Jack didn't look at him, but his hand froze in midair, holding a dried petal. Without a word, Daniel knelt and began removing Jack's boots. Jack let him, at first pushing his hands absently where his BDU trouser pockets would be, then hooking his hands in his belt behind his back, and leaning against the table to keep his balance as he lifted one foot, then the other, for Daniel. Now Daniel could feel Jack looking at him, though Daniel kept his eyes resolutely on his task. Jack said nothing.

Daniel removed the tall, flexible boots, and peeled Jack's socks down and off, too, and set them aside, and then he took his courage in both hands and, still kneeling, flattened his palms against the warm leather covering Jack's legs and slid the heels of his hands slowly, firmly, all the way up. The bulge was still there. He coasted along either side of it, and let his hands come to rest on Jack's thick belt.

"Aren't you forgetting that I'm perfectly capable of taking off my own clothes?" Jack's voice was hoarse.

Daniel let his hands slide warmly along Jack's middle, pushing them together to rest on the belt buckle. The pants were as tight as if they'd been painted on.

"I'm not forgetting anything," Daniel husked.

He slowly unbuckled, listening to Jack's breathing. It was definitely accelerating. Jack's hands floated around to rest softly on Daniel's head. Daniel closed his eyes against the bliss of that careful touch. His hands kept working.

He said, around the strange dryness in his throat, "Isn't this what we expected to happen here tonight?"

The heavy buckle hung loose now. The fly of Jack's pants had three knots. Daniel pulled the top one loose.

Jack cleared his throat. "Not necessarily."

"If you want me to stop, you'll have to say so," Daniel murmured.

"Daniel...." Jack said, but his voice trailed away and he sounded more amazed than questioning or warning.

Daniel smiled, feeling his own pulse beating eagerly in his neck, and he pulled the next knot free. And the next. There was nothing but skin under the pants.

Breathing hard, as amazed as Jack had sounded, Daniel gently pulled Jack's erection free and ran his fingers over it, then held it gently as he tugged downward at the trousers. He wanted more room. He wanted to be able to touch Jack's balls, to get his cock entirely out of the confinement of clothes.

Jack's hands still cupped Daniel's head, and every now and then Daniel felt his fingers twitch. Otherwise Jack was still. He didn't give any orders. He didn't tell Daniel to stop.

His dick was beautiful -- tapering a little to a blunt crown, the taut skin dark-red in the dim light. Daniel kept one hand cupped around it, and brushed the knuckles of the other against Jack's balls, caressing, feeling the tickle of the sparse wiry hair there, and then he licked his lips and leaned in and slid his mouth over and down.

Jack gasped his name.

Jack tasted wonderful, clean and musky and with an intense note rather like his sweat, but more subtle. Daniel closed his eyes and tasted and sucked. Jack's hands tightened on his skull. Daniel felt his own erection swelling. He settled further on his knees, settled in to enjoy, to revel.

There was a quiet but heavy knock at the door.

"What the-- God--" Jack jerked away and turned, pulling out abruptly, turning away from Daniel's hands and mouth, and Daniel's eyes got wide and he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He wanted to search Jack's face, but Jack was gazing at the door, looking as if he'd just been shaken awake from a pleasant dream. He had his hands cupped over himself. He glanced down at Daniel, wide-eyed, and Daniel realized he had to get up. He had to be the one to answer the knock, talk to the would-be visitor, perform his role as slave. Blinking his surprise and frustration, Daniel came to his feet and had to tug at the crotch of his own pants to make himself comfortable enough to walk.

_This better be important,_ he thought. He brushed by Jack, who was radiating alarm and annoyance. He moved when Daniel did, hurriedly doing up his pants and going to stand with his back to the wall next to the door.

As Daniel approached, the ornate door-handle turned, as whoever it was outside in the hallway tried the lock.

Daniel put his hand on the bolt. "Who disturbs Master Janos?"

"It is I, Teal'c."

Daniel turned, wanting to meet Jack's eyes and gauge his mood, as he shot the bolt and unlatched the heavy handle, but Jack was not looking at him. He had quickly stepped away from the door and turned his back. He was refastening his belt.

Daniel let Teal'c in, hoping his own erection was not too noticeable beneath his own very revealing leather pants.

Still careful of the presumed surveillance, using obscure Chulakian terms when necessary, Teal'c conveyed that he did indeed have an important briefing for them, with new intel that would be crucial to their mission.

Terse questions from Jack, quiet elaboration from Teal'c.

And the moment was so over.

As soon as Teal'c left, Daniel closed and re-barred the door, moving slowly, thinking, still half caught in his arrested arousal. Teal'c's new information would require a change the focus of their mission. A major change in objective, but not in the timing. Even with the new plan, Daniel and Jack would still wait out the night here, in their suite. What they now had to do on this planet, they couldn't do until dawn. Bottom line: Jack and he didn't have to go anywhere right now -- in fact, it was best if they didn't. It was best if nothing changed. The best way to maintain their cover would be for them both to lie low and act as if they were still waiting for tomorrow's scheduled auction.

So Daniel closed the door behind Teal'c, and threw the locks and shot the bolt and he felt-- hoped--that he was once again shutting out the world. Shutting out interruptions. He nervously smoothed his hands down over his vest and thought about turning around, thought about what he could say, how he could recapture what had been about to take place between him and Jack.

They weren't leaving this locked room until morning. Everything he'd staked, earlier, on their cover, on their roles here, on Jack's surprising actions at dinner -- all that was still true, still hanging in the air between them. And now that he'd had a taste of Jack, he wanted more. He did not want the moment to be over.

Daniel squared his shoulders and turned around.

Jack was already lying in the big carved bed. As Daniel stepped closer, he could see that Jack had peeled out of his pants and shirt and was settling, bare chested, under the covers. So Daniel moved to the empty side, and began to undress too. Jack's face as he lay there was impassive, not telegraphing anything. Not worry, not curiosity, nothing. Leaning on his elbow, just as he had at dinner, he merely turned up a corner of his pillow to let Daniel see the zat concealed there. Daniel nodded.

He stood there, and he stripped, letting Jack watch him, inviting it. He didn't hurry. He folded his clothes on the chair that sat at the head of the bed. Then, down to skin, he twitched back the covers and slid beneath them, settling on his side in the bed, facing Jack.

"So," Daniel said, when Jack didn't say anything.

"So," Jack returned.

"I was looking forward to undressing you," Daniel said, narrowing his eyes, keeping his words neutral in tone. The possibility of surveillance was very real. _Throw me a bone, here. What are you thinking?_

"Took away your job, did I..."

Daniel looked receptive. Jack steadily returned his gaze.

"The moment's not over," Daniel ventured, because Jack's poker face could hide a dozen emotions.

"No, maybe it's over," Jack said, thoughtfully, but he didn't close his eyes and he didn't turn away. Daniel frowned. Had it been Teal'c that had ruined the moment? Had Jack had too much time for second thoughts? Was Jack waving him off now because he was wondering, just as Daniel had during dinner, if Daniel really meant it, or had Daniel played his role so well that Jack assumed that's all the blowjob was -- a performance? Jack had all the same information about the likelihood of surveillance that Daniel did. Maybe Jack had assumed there was nothing Daniel wouldn't do to maintain the illusion of their roles. Nothing at all. That was true, but not for the reason Jack might be assuming. He had to let Jack know that. Somehow.

"Maybe it was just postponed," Daniel revised. He slowly raised a hand, and reached across the small distance between them to gently trace the line of Jack's clavicle, letting his fingertips rest where bone sank into the hollow of Jack's shoulder. He let his hand hover there, fingertips gentle on warm skin.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Jack said, cautious, and he was studying Daniel's lips and not his eyes. "Everything will be different when we get home."

"Will it?" Daniel said, and he put everything he had into those two words -- all the lust and yearning and surprise he'd felt at seeing what he'd seen in Jack's eyes at dinner, all the intense delight he'd felt at kissing Jack, at those brief tantalizing moments of blowing him, on his knees.

Jack met his eyes. His voice was casual. "Won't it?"

"Not for me."

Jack's exhale was sharp. He brought his own hand up and cupped Daniel's cheek, his eyes narrowed. Daniel could see his breathing change again, speeding up.

So he was right. Amazingly, Jack did want this, but he just wasn't sure. Daniel could make him sure.

Daniel fully pressed his hand against Jack's shoulder and closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss him.

He started slowly, wanting Jack to feel the tenderness, feel the very real emotion behind this. He needed Jack to know it wasn't an act. He pressed his lips to Jack's and moved them gently, opened slowly, reveling in Jack's mouth even more than he had in the banquet hall at dinner, now that he wasn't so incredibly surprised.

Jack's lush mouth softened for him, and Daniel could almost taste his surprised wariness. Daniel slid his hand up and around to cup Jack's neck, and he pulled his own elbow in and drew Jack down with him until they were lying together, still kissing. Daniel pressed closer, legs starting to tangle, and their erections came together. Jack really had taken every stitch of his clothes off, as Daniel had hoped, based on the pile he'd seen on the floor. He felt wonderful -- the warm, lean length of him. Daniel moaned without breaking the kiss.

And now Jack's arms were coming around him. Jack was kissing him back. Jack believed him, or Jack was willing to suspend belief and give in and simply play this out.

Willingness was all Daniel needed to feel from Jack. Relief mixed with arousal rose through him, a wave rising toward his heart. He smiled into the kiss, and then he sealed his mouth to Jack's and pulled their bodies fully together, a warm twining of muscle and skin.

Jack held him tight and kissed him back and started to move against him, apparently ready now to give in, just as Daniel was, to the almost overwhelming embrace of all that skin, all that heat and scent. Daniel moved one hand along the curve of Jack's shoulder, still kissing, still pressing with his body, but wanting to touch, too -- to explore with curious fingers. Jack was breathing faster, his cock hard as a rock against Daniel's. His skin seemed as eager to get Daniel's touch as Daniel was to give it.

Daniel, eyes closed, mouth busy, petted slowly, feeling the changes in the texture of Jack's skin, the bump of his ribs, the crinkle of chest hair. The flat furriness of Jack's belly. The smooth satiny warmth of his shaft. When Daniel's hand closed around Jack's erection, Jack moaned into the kiss and rocked his hips. His grip tightened where he held Daniel at shoulder and nape. Daniel jerked against him, his arousal now off the scale. Anything could happen in this bed, Daniel felt. Anything, and he wanted so much. Desires and images swirled through his mind.

He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Jack's, caressing faint stubble with his lips, and murmured, pressing his hips forward to meet Jack's and aligning their erections. "What would you like?"

He felt Jack's smile against his face. Jack bent his head a little, turning to seek Daniel's mouth. He kissed again before he answered. "Still so obedient?"

Daniel smiled, too, playing it out. "Yours to command."

Jack chuckled, but his hips hitched sharply. It felt involuntary.

_God,_ Daniel thought. _I should not be enjoying this so much._

Jack was saying, his voice low and fond, "No master and no slave, in bed. Nothing to show who's who, when the clothes come off."

They were writhing against each other now, frankly rubbing, a tangle of arms and legs and heat. Daniel knew he could come just like this. He felt the exquisite wash of intense arousal through his whole groin.

_Jack._

But something made him want to hold back the tide -- a persistent feeling that this was unique, this amazing thing happening between them. Something to be treasured. Nothing should be shortcut or rushed. Nothing should be wasted. Nothing.

"You didn't answer my question," Daniel said, and he was losing control of his voice. Arousal had roughened it. Jack petted the back of his head, cupping and holding.

"I'm pretty easy to please," Jack said, and his voice was rough, too.

"But what would you _like_," Daniel insisted, hooking his heel around Jack's calf, and, unable to hold it back, grinding into him again. He tried to catch his breath. "A night like this doesn't come along very often."

"You can say that again," Jack said, and he stilled, his arms tightening around Daniel, his mouth finding Daniel's again. His kiss was hot and demanding, and he pushed his tongue between Daniel's teeth and Daniel opened willingly, letting his neck muscles soften, letting Jack have his mouth. Jack kissed him, hard, and Daniel kissed him back, shaping his lips around Jack's tongue and sucking, both of them moaning. The pressure of the kiss turned them a little, taking Daniel halfway to his back and tilting some of Jack's weight onto his shoulder. Daniel's hand crept around Jack's head, holding on and inviting the plundering kiss to continue. Jack slid a knee over Daniel's, getting their cocks together again.

The position felt right to Daniel, perhaps because of the roles they'd worn into this bed, perhaps because of the remembered thrill of Jack gripping his neck and pulling him down into his lap, out there, at dinner. Regardless, it just felt right -- Jack's weight on him, heavy and solid.

Daniel kept kissing, opening to Jack, and answering the give and take of Jack's mouth, and he shifted until he was fully on his back, easing his hips to the side and down, and Jack took the offered hint and rolled all the way on top of him. Kissing and thrusting now, and once again Daniel tried to hold back his rush toward climax. He tried to slow his breathing, and he swept his hands down Jack's back, willing things to slow down, casting around for ways to halt his breathless rush toward ecstasy. When his palms rounded to fit the curves of Jack's ass, and Daniel pressed down, into the lifting of his own hips, Jack growled into his mouth, then nipped at Daniel's lower lip. Daniel smiled. Jack shifted some of his taut weight to his hands and began to kiss down Daniel's body -- jaw, neck, collarbone, nipple, solar plexus. Cradling Jack's head the while, Daniel gasped and arched and tried not to groan too loudly. Jack was biting and sucking and licking, his mouth sloppy and hasty. His erection was leaking against Daniel's thigh.

When Jack got to Daniel's dick he hesitated, and Daniel lifted his head to see, hoping Jack wasn't thinking better of this, hoping he was not caught in some strange and sudden reluctance. But Jack was just looking at Daniel, apparently just wanting to see. His expression was intent, but happy. Not puzzled or worried or anything but involved. And then Jack brought soft fingertips to strum along the tight flesh, and he swirled them feather-light, over the head of Daniel's cock, and Daniel groaned aloud. Jack must have registered the changed angle of his voice, because he looked up and met Daniel's eyes and grinned. The wicked happy lust in his expression made Daniel smile in answer.

Then slowly, almost delicately, Jack bent his head, holding Daniel's shaft carefully up, and began to lick him. The warm, wet softness of Jack's tongue made an intense contrast to the urgent rough humping of earlier. It made Daniel groan again, and a shiver ran through his whole body, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and watch. Jack pressed his own erection against Daniel's leg and leaned down and carefully tasted him, ran his tongue all over the head and down the shaft, and then up again, and then in one hot slide he took Daniel into his mouth. Daniel had to bite down, had to slap the mattress. He didn't want to come yet. He wanted this to go on.

Jack must have known how close he was, because he pulled off and let go of Daniel's cock, but he stayed there, pressed close, and kept licking and kissing -- nuzzling into the soft hollow spaces of Daniel's inner thighs, prompting Daniel to moan and spread his legs, slowing to kiss and lick Daniel's balls and then press them gently out of the way to lick behind them.

A new and different wave of heat coursed along Daniel's skin and along his spine at the change in tactics. His erection throbbed; his face got hot. He was not so close to coming now, not teetering on the edge, but he was on fire from the careful attention of Jack's tongue, Jack's fingertips. He ground his buttocks against the mattress and panted, and his hands caressed Jack's hair in continuous disorganized strokes. Jack made an impatient, wanting noise -- more than a grunt, less than a growl, and he burrowed closer, turning his head, and Daniel tilted his hips and opened his legs further. He supposed it was a surprise, that Jack would do this, explore like this, use his mouth like this on Daniel's body, but Daniel's surprise at Jack going down on him was swept up into his greater and overarching surprise at the mind-blowing way his fantasies, his hidden attraction, had become very real and very open. He'd never wondered if Jack would ever put his face between Daniel's legs, ever go down on him with such enthusiasm. He'd never gotten that far. He'd never pictured this. But it didn't matter. Because what he had now was reality. His body arched and opened. He was overwhelmed with lust and wonder.

Jack was kissing and licking the usually-hidden skin, taking his tongue down in a firm stripe between Daniel's balls, licking behind them, licking down the perineum. And Jack pressed at his thigh, wanting him even more open, and Daniel rolled his hips and lifted. It was exquisite, the dance of sensation, like fire running along his nerve endings. Jack made that frustrated noise again, and he pulled back. Daniel heard him swallow and shift, and then his hands were back, one gently rolling and cupping Daniel's balls, one warm and damp against his thigh, leaving his cock alone for the moment.

"Roll over," Jack said hoarsely, and then he paused, even as Daniel, a spike of lust coursing through him, gathered his singing muscles and started to comply. "If you want to," Jack added, but Daniel was already going--a slump of knees and elbows, a drag past Jack's legs, all hasty astonished eagerness.

As Daniel settled, pulling a knee up, settling his dick against the mattress, Jack slid between his legs and kissed each cheek, then pulled them gently open and immediately began to lick him, carefully probing and tasting. Jack's grip tightened on his buttocks and Daniel groaned aloud, smothering his cries in the down pillows.

_Too much. Too good. God._

Jack settled in, intent, drunk on it, touching so gently, licking and nuzzling and opening Daniel with his tongue. Daniel scrubbed his face into the pillows and widened his knees, loving it, loving everything about it, even the stretch in his groin muscles and the feel of Jack's weight on his leg.

Then suddenly Jack took his mouth away and moved again, climbing up and over him and resting his torso against Daniel's back, fitting his wet erection where his mouth had been, pressing and rocking. Panting, Daniel pulled a hand from under his pillow, and Jack groped up and their fingers intertwined.

His hoarse, cut-off whisper was right in Daniel's ear. "I want to-- should we--"

Daniel knew. Daniel knew what he wanted, what he was asking for. Janos the master wouldn't stop to ask, wouldn't have concerns about sexual history or blood tests or lube. Janos would just go ahead and fuck his always-willing slave. Daniel shivered.

But Jack O'Neill was a different story.

Daniel whispered back, "We're safe, aren't we? --I am."

Jack groaned and pressed against him and scrubbed his face against Daniel's neck and traps.

"I haven't..." and Jack paused his whisper to kiss Daniel's neck, "...been with anyone. There's no one else."

"Yes," Daniel said aloud, answer and acceptance and plea, and he squeezed Jack's fingers between his and pushed his ass up, into Jack's wet hardness. Jack's dick was leaking, and Daniel could feel it, adding moisture where he would need it. Jack's saliva was starting to dry on Daniel's ass; this wasn't exactly ideal, but it would work. Daniel could so do this; he wanted to do this. He wanted to _so badly._ He could already feel it, already anticipate that glowing explosion inside him when Jack pushed home. He put his face in his pillow again. "Yes, yes," he said.

Jack didn't let go of his hand. He leaned on that elbow, and Daniel felt his other hand go to his mouth, work there a moment, and then felt him lean a little up and a little aside. Jack's knee bent and his weight shifted.

Then the slick head of Jack's cock was pressing in and Daniel breathed and tilted his hips and bore down -- old knowledge and new toys making this possible. How long had it been, how long? It didn't matter now, how long, or where, or with whom he had learned this, but he knew how to do this, he knew, he wanted....

He was opened, he was held, and the pleasure rippled out in steep intense waves from deep inside him, and Jack was warm and alive, spread full length along him, pushing in him.

_God._

Jack was holding his breath, leaning a little on his elbow, being so careful, so careful, and it wasn't perfect, it was a strain and it was more friction that Daniel would, given more options, truly prefer, but it was tight and glorious and deep and most of all it was _Jack_. Entering him. Joining with him.

"Jack, Jack," Daniel said out loud, into the pillow, pushing back, pushing open, taking it, wanting it.

"God, Daniel," Jack said, and then he was in. All the way in, and it was so much and so goddamned good. Daniel panted. He rocked his hips gently, feeling it all, the stretch and the deep fullness and the burst of sensation from his prostate, and Jack knew what he was doing, too. Jack made no attempt to pull back to thrust -- the spit and pre-come he'd cobbled together was only enough to get him here, to get him this. But Jack _rocked_, gently, sending sweet lightning bolts out through Daniel's gut, and Daniel could feel his orgasm coming, could practically taste it.

"Daniel," Jack said, again, hoarse and tense, and he held the pressure against Daniel's back, still rocking. Daniel caught the rhythm, rocking too, getting the little bit of friction he needed on his cockhead to get him there, get him over the edge, and his climax rushed up, a white explosion. He clutched Jack's hand and pulsed around him, coming into the mattress, warmth spreading against his belly. Maybe Jack had been waiting for him, hoping for it, or maybe the way he tightened around Jack was what did it, what made it enough, but he felt it -- Jack was coming, too, pulsing inside him, long and sweet, and then lowering his forehead to rest against Daniel's head, panting raggedly as he finished. His chest heaved against Daniel's sweaty back.

They lay there, still joined, for a long time, until Jack began to soften and he could gingerly pull out.

Daniel winced -- it was impossible not to, and what had he been thinking, it was impetuous, crazy, to do it like this, without real lube, shit, he knew better -- but god, it was worth it. Jack pulled out, carefully, carefully, and it wasn't too bad. Definitely bearable.

Jack flopped down beside him onto his back, collapsing into the soft bed again, pulling the covers up around them. Still stunned and feeling half-drunk, feeling used and rubbed and thoroughly fucked, Daniel turned his head to meet Jack's eyes. Jack slung a heavy arm across Daniel's shoulders and turned to his side. Daniel managed a smile. He was wiped. He was wrecked.

"You all right?" Jack said softly, eyes narrowing, and he pulled his arm in to touch Daniel's eyebrow, stroke the hollow of his temple, dabbing gently with his fingertips, amazingly gentle.

Daniel nodded, still too stunned to speak. He managed to pull his own hand up, and press Jack's palm against his cheek, just as he had done at dinner. His eyes were so heavy. He closed them. He could feel Jack's breath on his face until he fell asleep.

^^^^^

The zat gun slept comfortably under Daniel's pillow the rest of the night.

They had to leave their messy wide bed behind, and slip out of their warm room at the first touch of dawn. They were bound for a secret rendezvous with Sam and Vala and Teal'c. The new mission was to head for the reputed location of what was indeed an Ancient ship, and to do so, now, well in advance of the auction.

Teal'c had changed the plans, with Jack's approval. Because some Jaffa were going to steal the ship, according to the guy with the Anubis tattoo, who, it turned out, had known Teal'c just a little bit better than he'd initially let on, and who had made contact with Teal'c during the previous evening's banquet, using the time-honored ruse of trailing Teal'c when he went out to relieve himself.

So, in the gray chill, Sam, Jack and Teal'c made a run for the ship, leaving Daniel and Vala to hustle (Daniel not much worse for wear, having been left with a mostly pleasant soreness that made running only a little uncomfortable) to roust Mitchell and the other SG team and hightail it for the Gate.

They made it with no complications, the forest dripping and silent around them. Reynolds dialed, and they watched the chevrons glowing orange through the early morning fog. Daniel rubbed the beard burn on his neck and smiled to himself. When he looked up to find Vala looking at him, she winked.

Daniel had to wait until the following morning on Earth, with the associated added-on hours of Gate-lag, to learn that their new ship was an exact match for the Atlantis-style jumpers, except its hyperdrive had previously been messily scavenged, which meant that Teal'c had had to give Jack a quick lesson in Bra'tac's favorite thread-the-needle maneuver in order to exit the system before the smugglers identified which faction of their rich and dissipated guests was ripping them off. And, luckily, Daniel supposed, this ship in fact had no time-device after all.

That night, he arrived at Jack's door, hand cupping the new tube of lube in his coat pocket, feeling like a teenager on his second date.

Jack opened the door to a dimly lit hotel room. Daniel could hear soft music in the background. Jack grinned at him, and when he closed the door he turned and immediately drew Daniel into a bearhug.

Any uncertainty that had settled in Daniel's belly during that long day, making him wonder, making him second-guess, was soothed away in that hug.

Daniel pulled back, and then they were kissing again, smoothly shaved cheeks brushing, their mouths meeting like old faithful friends. Daniel ran his hands down Jack's back, and his eyebrows went up. He had to pull away from the kiss to see.

Jack was wearing a classic-looking, shin-length, black silk dressing gown.

Daniel smiled and dove back into the kiss.

When that kiss ended and Jack pulled away, he brought his hand up to stroke Daniel's cheek, thumbing at his sideburn. He kept his other arm around Daniel's waist.

"No second thoughts?" Jack said, as if reading Daniel's mind.

"None at all," Daniel affirmed.

"Because I could see how you would be tempted," Jack persisted, searching his face. "Since you could try to blame it on the cover stories, you know."

"No second thoughts," Daniel said firmly. "It was a wonderful opportunity, I think. And I do mean wonderful."

Jack's expression eased, and he leaned in for another deep, happy kiss. Daniel kissed back, eyes closed, and explored the warm silk, tugging gently at the sash to see if it would give.

He said, between kisses, "I guess clothes really did make the man this time... or actually the clothes let me make the man."

Jack's chuckle was warm and immediate. "Except for the part where you were already on the make."

Daniel said, "Me? Never."

"You just cling to those illusions, Doctor Jackson."

_l'll just cling to you instead,_ Daniel thought, his lips brushing Jack's collarbone, his hands sliding lower, into the fronts of Jack's robe, to begin a long lazy weekend of new sartorial surprises.

the end


End file.
